Penny Prewett and the Two Worlds
by Definition of Random
Summary: Penny Prewett is the first of her kind to be born in centuries. During the school year, she is a student with perfect grades at Hogwarts with the second generation. In the summer, she can be found at Camp Half-Blood with Percy and friends.
1. The First Sign That I Was Not Normal

Chapter 1: The First Sign That I Was Not Normal

Hi.

My name is Penelope Prewett (but if you actually call me that, I'll kill you. Most people call me Penny).

My life is messed up.

Why?

'Cause I'm a half-blood.

There's two concepts to that, and I'm both.

Let me start from the beginning.

* * *

I grew up in Toronto, Canada with my dad, Terrence Prewett, a Canadian pure-blood wizard. I never knew my mother. I didn't know much about her, except that she was a muggle and she died when I was young. Dad didn't like talking about her, since it made him all emotional, and I had learned when I was young not to ask anymore.

Before I turned eleven, I went to a normal muggle school. Then, on my eleventh birthday, I received a letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They didn't usually accept students from countries other than Britain, but I did, because I'm just that awesome.

In summer of 2010, me and my dad went to London to get my stuff and all that. I got a small barn owl, and I named her Hilarem, which is Latin for "cheerful", because she is _so_ cheerful. I also got a wand, ten and a half inches, made of ash wood and unicorn hair, flexible.

On September 1st of the same year, I went to King's Cross Station with my dad to the legendary Platform Nine and Three Quarters. There I met my best friend, Victoire Weasley. She is _Harry Potter's niece_. (When I first heard that, my eyes nearly bugged out of its sockets. Even in Canada, the tale of Harry Potter is legendary. I haven't met him yet, but Victoire promised me I would when I go to her house this summer.) But the funny part is, I'm also her distant relative, because her father's mother—Molly Weasley—used to be a Prewett. But then, all pure-blood families are related.

I got sorted into Gryffindor along with Victoire. (She was delighted, of course, because that's where her crush, Teddy Lupin is. He's a year older than us, and although she won't admit it, she has a _huge_ crush on him.) I was almost a Hat Stall—the Sorting Hat tried to decide between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw for three minutes. Then it finally decided on Gryffindor.

I studied hard and was the top of the class, even better than the Ravenclaws. I earned loads of house points for Gryffindor, and I _tried_ not to lose too much, but even though I'm awesomely smart, I'm just not the type to follow rules. Victoire always joked that I was like her cousin, Fred Weasley II.

But since I got to Hogwarts, I've been seeing strange creatures in the Hogwarts grounds, by the Black Lake, near the Forbidden Forest... I've also been having strange dreams, or rather, visions. But on one night a few days before the final exams, it was worse than any other.

_I was standing in the middle of a dark chamber. There was very little light and all I could make out was a figure kneeling in front of nothing._

_"My lord, what is happening?" said the obviously frightened kneeling person._

_A hiss came from everywhere and nowhere. It occurred to me that it was a laugh. "What _isn't_ happening, my faithful servant?" It replied._

_"The girl is close to realizing who she is, my lord," said the servant. "We mustn't let this continue on!"_

_"No indeed," the voice agreed. "What do you suggest we do about it?"_

_The servant hesitated. "Finish her off, perhaps, before she is able to stop us?"_

_"I would advise not," said the voice, and the servant winced. "The girl may be useful to us."_

_"As—as you wish, my lord. So what must I do about her, sir?"_

_"Keep her where she is," said the voice. "Do not harm her yet. Once you are sure she will not be of any help, finish her. But be wary. She may be more powerful than you realize." Then the voice seemed to turn in my direction. "Isn't that right, Penny, dear?"_

"Oh my god!" I gasped, sitting up from my four-poster. "What the hell?"

Victoire Weasley stood by my four-poster, looking worried. "You've been thrashing around and muttering random rubbish for a little over five minutes."

"I had a dream—no, nightmare—no... Something, like a vision. I can't be sure what." I told Victoire my dream. "Who do you think the servant is?"

Victoire looked more troubled than I felt. "I don't know, but Dad told me... about Uncle Harry."

"What about him?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well... it was actually Uncle Ron who told me more specifically... and... well..." Victoire seemed nervous. Like, _really_ nervous.

"Just spit it out, Victoire," I said impatiently.

"Fine. We were at this party, it was Audrey's birthday, something like that. And suddenly Uncle Ron just got all sentimental... Too much firewhiskey, I expect, and started recounting his years with Uncle Harry. He told me all about how Uncle Harry used to have dreams when You-Know-Who was in his mind, thrashing and muttering in his sleep." Victoire looked at me. "Much like what was happening to you, Penny."

I shook my head. "No. It can't be Voldemort." Victoire shuddered at the mention of his name. I never got why his name was so feared. Back in Canada, my dad believed it was all nonsense and spoke his name, so so do I. "Voldemort's voice would be more... snakelike. This one seemed like... I dunno, I can't explain. But I'm certain it's not him."

"_Bien_," said Victoire, who seemed relieved. Merlin! Not more French!

I sighed. "I thought we agreed, no French."

Victoire rolled her eyes. "It's not like you can't understand."

"Hey, just because I studied French for a little in Canada—and _Canadian_ French, mind you—doesn't mean I understand each and every bloody word you say!" I protested. And yes, I said "bloody". Living in Britain for a few months, and you start to pick up on the accent. Maybe, by the time I finish seventh year, I'll completely forget the meaning of "YOLO".

"Could you be any louder?" complained Layla MacDougal, our dorm mate, from the other side of the dormitory. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

* * *

The first-year Gryffindor girls dormitory was almost dead quiet. The only sounds were the soft sounds of my dorm mates, Victoire, Layla, Vivienne van Dinn, and Isobel Chang's soft breathing. I had been laying in bed for a few hours, unable to sleep after my nightmare. I couldn't make anything of it, and the memory of the dream is already slipping away. But the kneeling figure had seemed familiar to me somehow.

A few hours later, I jumped out of bed. Everybody was still in bed and I had decided to be an early-bird today (well, I always was an early-bird). I checked my clock. Seven on the dot. Then I grabbed my robes and changed into them. I found the books I needed and shoved them in my bag. I also pocketed my wand, and walked down into the common room.

There were very few people in the common room. Some of them nodded to me. I acknowledged them and walked out of the portrait hole.

"What are you doing out here so early?" asked the Fat Lady.

"Couldn't sleep," I answered, and walked down the stairs.

"Well, you can always tell me about what's bothering you!" she called after me.

"Sure I can," I muttered.

I wandered around the castle. There was still about twenty minutes until breakfast, and no point waiting there like an idiot. So I decided to visit my portrait friends.

I waited for the moving staircases to come by. Seriously, they may sound cool, but not if you knew you had to wait a whole minute for it to come by (hey, I'm ADHD; I'm not exactly patient). I went into the fifth floor corridor and found the paintingmy friend Eliza aka Liz stayed in.

"Oi, Eliza!" I called.

The witch opened one of her eyes and grinned. "What can I do for you, miss?"

I sighed. "It's the twenty-first century, Liz. I'm not 'miss'."

"I apologize, miss," she said. "The painting was made in the seventeenth century. I cannot help the way I speak."

"Never mind that," I said.

"Huh," said Liz. "Is something on your mind, miss? I can see it in your eyes."

I told her about my dream.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. "Well, I must agree 'tis a troublesome matter. But I've no clue of the dream."

I sighed. "Nobody does," I told her, "not even me with my brilliant brains. But I think someone is plotting to kill me."

Liz nodded, though she looked terrified by the thought. "Oh, what if you passed, miss? I'd be all alone! Nobody ever visits me."

I gave her my best smile. "Oh, I'm much too stubborn to die. You know I won't just let someone kill me."

That seemed to cheer Liz up a bit. "But you mustn't let your guard down!" she warned. "Be wary at all times."

I grinned at her. "Fine." I checked my watch. Almost seven thirty. "Yeah, I should be going, Liz. I'll check up on you later."

"Take care!" she called after me. I waved.

I went down to the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Victoire.

"Where were you?" she demanded. "I woke up and you weren't there... and after your dream..." Her voice trailed off, her thought apparently too frightening to voice.

I rolled my eyes. "Relax, Vicky." Victoire scowled; I knew she hated the nickname. "I couldn't sleep, so I decided to get up early and visit Liz."

Victoire's glare softened. "Oh," she said. "Just make sure you tell me next time."

"Yes, Mother," I joked.

(Thinking back, it was a bad pun. I didn't know what a mother would act like, since I never knew mind, but whatever.)

Victoire rolled her eyes. "Let's eat, shall we?" she said as the owls began flying in. "Oh, I think I see Hilarem! It's probably your dad's letter."

I looked up and I did see Hilarem soaring across the ceiling. She landed next to me with an envelope.

"What's up, Hilarem?" I said to her. She nipped my finger and took a bite of the oatmeal. I checked the address. It was unfamiliar and there was no name. I frowned and ripped the letter open as Victoire spoke.

"I don't get the whole 'what's up' thing with you Americans—"

"Canadians," I said absently.

"—greeting each other like that. Why is it '_up_'? Why not 'down' or 'left' or 'right'? Every time you say it, I look up. And nothing's _up_!" babbled Victoire.

She continued on about how stupid "what's up" was, but as I read the letter, her voice became far away and distant, like she was there, but in a different dimension than me. The letter was from a stranger.

_Dear Penelope Prewett,_

_If you are reading this, then I am deeply sorry for you. I sincerely apologize for the events that will soon happen in your life, but I am afraid I cannot interfere directly. I have been watching you, and I believe you have the courage and intelligence to survive._

_In order to help you, I must ask you to come around Long Island Sound, New York in the United States as soon as your summer vacation begins._

_I am sure you are confused by this letter, but I cannot tell you anything in case your owl has been intercepted by our enemies, only that you are not who you think you are. You are much more powerful and dangerous than you think._

_Come by Long Island Sound. We will be waiting._

_Sincerely,_

_Chiron_

_Activities Director of Camp Half-Blood_

_Trainer of Heroes_

* * *

**A/N: If anyone is reading this, wonderful! I didn't think anyone would notice my story. I would like it if you'd R&R! :P**

**~DefinitionOfRandom**


	2. I Take McGonagall's Advice

Chapter 2: I Take McGonagall's Advice

**A/N: Hiya all! I'm so glad that you guys reviewed! OMG I did ****_not_**** think anyone would notice this story! I'm so happy that I could just hop on that imaginary (sadly) Firebolt of mine... and probably get attacked by storm spirits... no, I did not say that... well, on to the story then!**

* * *

"Prewett!" said the Headmistress/Transfiguration teacher Professor McGonagall later that day. "Pay attention, or do you already know how to Transfigure a pencil into a quill?"

"Long Island Sound..." I murmured.

"_Prewett_!" McGonagall shouted. "Stay after class, I wish to speak to you!"

Some of the Ravenclaw students who had Transfiguration with us snickered. Victoire looked at me and whispered, "Look, I know you're worried and confused, but if you don't at least _try_ to pay attention McGonagall will give you detention! With Filch!"

I ignored her.

After class, I stayed behind with McGonagall.

"Miss Prewett, what is the matter?" McGonagall asked, her voice not the stern one it usually was.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

McGonagall gave a small laugh and said, "You remind me of Harry Potter. If he was tormented, he never told anyone." She gave me another stern look. "Come off it. I know something's wrong with you. I've been teaching for almost fifty years. I know a distraught student when I see one."

I hesitated. McGonagall was the headmistress. If there was anyone in the school that I could trust, it was her. I pulled the letter from my robe pocket and handed it to McGonagall.

McGonagall accepted it curiously and began to read. Her expression changed from confusion to bewilderment, then understanding, then bewilderment again.

"Ah, Chiron..." she murmured.

My eyebrows shot up so fast that they might have come off. "You know this Chiron?"

McGonagall sighed and closed her eyes. "Yes. We have been acquaintances for quite some time, though I haven't heard from him in a few months." She gave the letter another look. "If he wants you to come to his camp... Then this is bad news, Penny." My head jerked up at the use of my first name.

"Why, Professor?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I cannot tell you," she said sadly. "But the only thing I can say is you must go to Chiron."

"Great," I grumbled. "'_I'm afraid I cannot tell you_'," I said, imitating McGonagall. "Don't you have any other things to say?"

If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn McGonagall was holding back a smile. "Go to your next class, Miss Prewett," she said, her usual severe self again. "What do you have next?"

"Charms with Professor Flitwick."

"Yes, run along," McGonagall said briskly. "I need to prepare for my next class... transfiguring furniture to animals... yes..."

I just sighed, turned on my heels walked swiftly out of the classroom. Victoire was waiting.

"What did McGonagall want? How many detentions did you get?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Chillax. No detentions. She was just worried."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I showed her the letter and she said, '_I'm afraid I cannot tell you. But the only thing I can say is go to Chiron_'."

Victoire sighed. "Can they ever tell you _anything_?"

I shook my head no. "I suppose not. Now let's better go. Just because McGonagall didn't give me detention doesn't mean _Flitwick_ won't give us detention for being late."

* * *

The next week was peaceful... well, sort of. A second-year who was surprisingly idiotic for a Ravenclaw (or for an average human being) buried his head in his stupid textbook studying for the final exams and bumped into me in the corridors. I hexed him and got detention, but I consider that peaceful. Kinda.

What? I hate people bumping into me.

Anyways, a week later, final exams rolled around. I'm pretty sure I got all O's and maybe one E in History of Magic. I was right.

"Yeah, it's da summah!" I said to Victoire and our other friend, Cadmus Forthright in the common room. Victoire rolled her eyes while Cadmus just smiled. He's always so shy, Cadmus.

"It's not technically summer yet, Penny," said Victoire. "We've only just finished our exams."

I scowled at her. "You just had to make my day, eh?" I said. "Besides, just because I'm hopelessly awesome at classes doesn't mean I don't want to get back to Dad in Toronto."

Cadmus laughed quietly and Victoire had a look of understanding on her face. "I know, I miss Dad and _Maman_ loads."

Cadmus said quietly, "I can't wait to see Mum and Dad either."

I laughed out loud suddenly. Victoire and Cadmus looked equally confused. "Did I say something?" he asked.

"No," I said, still laughing. "I just realized that I was the only one here without a mother..."

"You're mental," said Victoire, but giggling all the same. "Only you could laugh at a situation like this... or perhaps Uncle George... or perhaps Fred..."

Cadmus just looked at me incredulously and shook his head. "You never fail to amaze me," he said. "And that was _not_ a compliment," he added, seeing my amused epression.

"Of course it was," I said, wiping tears of laughter from my face, "and you know it, Cadmus!"

Cadmus hesitated, then he decided to ignore me. Victoire was still giggling. I grinned; no one could handle me, not even my best friends.

I dropped the subject. "What will you be doing in the summer?"

Victoire looked at me. "Well, I _wanted_ you to come and stay at our place for a week or two, but seeing as you have to go to Long Island Sound..."

"Right." I sighed. "Life sucks. What about you, Cadmus?"

"Well, I'm going to Alaska with my parents..." Cadmus was muggle-born, so he tends to go to places like that.

"Alaska... that should be fun," I commented. Cadmus nodded enthusiastically. He looked really excited, but there was something else in his expression that I couldn't quite put my finger on. I shrugged it off and put it in the back of my mind.

* * *

The next few days were all very relaxing, and I spent everyday with Victoire and Cadmus. Before we knew it, it was the last day of school. I shoved all of my stuff into my trunk—let's face it, who really packs? Maybe only OCD Ravenclaws. Sorry, eagles... but it's true.

We all rode the horseless (or so I thought) carriages to Hogsmeade Station. The Gryffindor prefects helped carry our trunks onto the Hogwarts Express, and I sat down in a compartment with Victoire and Cadmus.

We played wizard chess and ate lots of candy, much more than my dad would have approved of, all the way to King's Cross Station. The wizard chess was basically Victoire vs. Cadmus, since I sucked at wizard chess and I hate everything that I sucked at. So I just watched them play. It was a lot more fun than it would have been if I had played myself, watching both of them cheat constantly. Hilarem chatted in Owl with Cadmus's owl, Coal when she wasn't sleeping while Victoire's cat, Belle, slept the whole way.

Soon (if you consider six hours soon), we had reached Platform Nine and Three Quarters. I couldn't help a wave of excitement. I hadn't seen my dad since Easter.

Me and Victoire and Cadmus jumped out of the train as soon as possible. I searched for Dad and found him. I ran to him with my trunk and Hilarem's cage.

"Dad!" I yelled and ran to him.

"Hey, Penny," he chuckled and ruffled my hair. "My, you've grown."

"Hi, Dad," I said. I dragged Victoire with me to meet him. "Dad, this is Victoire Weasley, the friend I've been telling you about."

"A Weasley, eh?" he said. "I've met some of your relatives. Nice family, the Weasleys are. Glad to meet you."

"Glad to meet you too, Mr. Prewett," Victoire said politely, shaking his hand. "Do you mind if I borrow Penny for a moment?"

"Of course not," said Dad, though he raised his eyebrows.

This time, _Victoire_ dragged _me_ towards _her_ parents, instead of the other way around. "You know, if you're 'borrowing me', shouldn't you ask _me_ first? My thoughts matter!" I complained.

Victoire ignored me and pulled me toward four people standing there. There was a beautiful slim woman with long blonde hair that matched those of Victoire's. Standing next to her was a cool-looking tall man with fiery red hair tied back in a ponytail. They had two children with them, one girl about nine, and a boy around six or seven.

"_Maman_, Dad, meet Penny Prewett, my best friend. Penny, that's my Mum and Dad, and my siblings, Dominique and Louis."

"Hi," I told them. "And, uh, _bonjour_?"

The woman chuckled. "I understand Eenglish," she said. "'Zough eet 'as not eemproved as much as I would 'ave liked. Nice to meet you, Penny. Call me Fleur."

The man put a hand around her waist. "Same. I'm Bill. Victoire's mentioned you quite a lot."

I turned to Victoire and mocked surprise. "You did? Oh, I'm so flattered!" I said sarcastically.

Dominique giggled. "You act like my cousin Fred," she said.

"So I've been told," I muttered. Only Victoire heard and stifled a laugh.

"Yeah... Nice to meet you guys, too," I said.

"Victoire..." Bill turned to her. "I thought you said Penny was coming to live at our house for a few weeks?"

Victoire hesitated. "Well... she was," she said, looking at me, "but... er... something came up at the last minute," she lied, which was partly true. Something _did_ come up at the last minute.

Bill frowned. "All right," he said, and turned to me. "But know that if you owl Victoire, you're always welcome to come to our place."

I gave them a genuine smile. "Thanks, Bill."

Victoire gave me a hug. "See you, Penny," she said. "If you don't at least send me an owl a week, I just might send a Howler." Then she lowered her voice so that only I could hear and said, "Good luck at Long Island Sound."

I nodded and answered her previous comment so as not to earn suspicion. "Hilarem'll be exhausted, sending all the letters. Remember, I'll be in Canada?" _And New York_, I added inside my head.

I gave Victoire one last hug and went back to my dad. I met Cadmus and his muggle dad on the way. He told me his mom couldn't come before I could even ask. I just raised my eyebrows, gave him a small hug, and told him that I'd see him in September.

I went back to my dad. "Hey, Dad," I said. "Let's go." He smiled and pushed my cart with all my stuff on it for me.

We walked in comfortable silence to the muggle platforms.

"Hey, Dad?" I said.

"Yes, honey?"

I hesitated, thinking of a way to put this. "A few weeks ago... Hilarem brought a letter from someone. His name is Chiron." I waited, studying my dad's face, looking for any sign of recognition. I found nothing, but then, Dad was always good at hiding his emotions. I continued, "And he said a bunch of rubbish no one could quite understand. I fumbled in my jean pockets and pulled the letter out. I've been carrying it around since I received it, looking at it constantly as if I would suddenly understand its cryptic words.

I handed the letter to Dad. He read it while walking. When he finished, he sighed.

"I've been expecting this," he said, "for a long time. Did you tell anyone about this?"

"Only Victoire, Cadmus, and McGonagall."

"Really? What did Minerva say?" Dad's eyebrows flew into his hair.

"She said that I should go to this _Chiron_," I said emphasizing the name, "but she won't tell me anything else."

Dad sighed. "That's probably wise." When I looked at him expectantly, he said, "No, I can't tell you any more, either, Penny. It would only put you in danger."

I was about to protest, but I thought better of it; Dad was notorious for being stubborn.

"Fine," I pouted. "So we're going to New York?"

Dad turned to me sadly. "Not _we_," he corrected. "_You_. I can't get past the borders of camp.

* * *

**RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE CHAPTER BROUGHT TO YOU BY DEFINITION OF RANDOM: If the Weasleys thought ****_telephone_**** was ****_fellytone_****, would they think ****_television_**** is ****_veletision_****?**

* * *

**A/N: Hi! I just thought of the whole "RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE CHAPTER BROUGHT TO YOU BY DEFINITION OF RANDOM" thingy. I thought, if my pen name is DefinitionOfRandom, I'd actually have to ****_be_**** random, right? There will be one every chaoter from now on. Nd I know the chapter sucks and there's not much action, sorry... :( I promise the next chapter will be better! :D Anyways, please ****_R&R_****! Love you all! 3**

**~DefinitionOfRandom**


	3. Camp I'm-Not-Exactly-Human

Chapter 3: Camp I'm-Not-Exactly-Human

**DISCLAIMER: Ex-****_cuse_**** me! Do I ****_look_**** like a forty-nine-year old fantastic British woman or (because from now on his creations will appear in Penny Prewett) a forty-something-year-old marvellous American author? Didn't think so. Last time I checked, I'm still a Canadian girl...**

* * *

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "You can't be serious! I can't go there _alone_! I don't know a bloody thing about the bloody place! I don't even _know_ the bloody place!"

"Language, Penny," cautioned Dad, though he looked slightly amused. "And of course you can go alone. Didn't the letter say all you had to do was go to Long Island Sound?"

"Well, yes..."

"And are you or are you not capable of taking a cab from JFK to there?"

"I—what?" I said. "You've already decided?"

Dad grinned, much like the one I wore after a successful prank. "McGonagall owled me, too. You didn't think she would keep me in the dark?"

"Why do I have to go, anyway?" I whined.

Dad sobered up immediately. "It's essential in order or you to survive, Penny," he said cryptically.

I snorted. "Fine. Are we going to New York instead of home?"

The stupid grin returned to Dad's face. "Yeah. I can come with you as far as JFK. And I was going to New York anyways for a meeting." Which wasn't surprising. Dad was Head of Department of International Cooperation in the Canadian Ministry of Magic.

"Why Muggle transportation?"

"Penny, you know full well that you're not old enough to Apparate and there's no such thing as oversea Floo. So unless you want to ride a broom all the way to New York..."

"Okay, okay, I get your point," I interrupted, smiling at my dad at the same time. "Let's attack NYC."

* * *

Not-quite nine hours later, the plane landed in JFK. I sighed with relief; seven and a half hours on a plane does not agree with me. I'm ADHD, so I kept squirming and kicking the seat in front of me, earning me a few dirty looks and eventually, a couple of curses.

Me and Dad got our luggage. Mine was just my Hogwarts school trunk and Hilarem's cage. She hasn't flown since she brought the letter from Chiron, so I thought she'd enjoy the freedom. I'm guessing I won't be seeing her for some time.

Once we got out of JFK, Dad hailed a cab for me.

"Long Island Sound," he told the driver and handed him a hundred dollar bill. The driver gaped at it like a dead fish. "Keep the change," Dad told him. He gave me one last hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Be safe, Penny," he whispered. I could only nod.

"I'll—I'll send you an owl, Dad," I said under my breath so the driver couldn't hear and won't get suspicious.

"Bye, honey," he said and closed the door.

The taxi sped down the busy roads of New York City.

Half an hour later, we arrived. "Where to in Long Island Sound, miss?" he asked.

That's when I realized Chiron didn't exactly have an exact address. "Uh... anywhere," I told him. According to the letter, they'd find me anyway.

I saw the driver's raised eyebrows in the rear view mirror but fortunately, didn't say anything. "How about here, miss?"

"Yeah, that would be nice." The cab stopped. I stepped out. The driver helped me get my trunk out of the trunk (ha!). I thanked him and he drove away. I stood there like an idiot for a few minutes. It occurred to me that I was in an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar city in an unfamiliar state in an unfamiliar country. Brilliant.

I looked up at the clear blue sky. "You know, I'm standing right here. You told me to come here, and I did. So why don't you bloody come and get me?" I yelled to no one and nothing in particular. The sky looked as normal as it always was. I sighed. _Great_.

A few minutes later, two black dots appeared in the sky. I squinted at it, cursing the bright sun mentally. They seemed to be flying with wings, but it was way too big to be a bird. When it came closer, they were horses with wings. Pegasi. I'd read about them in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. A boy of about sixteen years old was riding on one of them. He landed his pure-black pegasus next to me. The other white one landed also.

The boy looked like a clone of Harry Potter when he was younger, not that I'd met him personally. He had messy black hair that looked like it would be absolutely impossible to make it lie flat and sea-green eyes that reminded me of a cute baby seal. He had an air of leadership around him. I suppose the only thing that was missing was the trademark lightning bolt scar. I guess he was kind of cute, though he's just not my type of guy, you know?

"Why aren't you freaking out?" he asked me.

I snorted. "Why would I? It's not like I haven't seen them befor—I mean, I'm totally freaking out! What the hell _are_ they?"

The boy raised his eyebrows. "Pegasi. Blackjack and Pearl. But I'm sure you know who they are already. Name?"

"Penny Prewett."

"So you're the one Chiron's been babbling about," he said.

"You know him? He sent me a letter that makes about sense as my gym socks." I handed him the letter. He read it over and snorted.

"Sounds like him. I doubt it's actually that serious. Chiron just writes that way to sound impressive," he said, handing me the letter.

"I don't know your name yet?"

"Percy Jackson."

"Who are you? Why am I here? Who–who am _I_?"

Percy's gaze softened and I could see sympathy. "To answer your first question, I can't tell you yet. to answer your other twoI don't know. But that's why you should come to Camp Half-Blood."

"Camp Whatsis?"

"It's not safe to explain. Get on Pearl and we'll get there," he said in an _I-don't-care-what-you-think-just-do-it_ voice. I pouted a little but got on anyways.

Flying on a pegasus was just as exhilarating as riding on a broom (no, no, I did not sneak out after curfew to go flying on the school's brooms). Feeling the wind in my face, I couldn't help but laugh out loud, making Pearl whinny and Percy give me a weird look that people tended to give me a lot.

A few minutes later, I noticed a sort of campish land that I hadn't noticed before. Like, _literally_, it wasn't there a second ago. There was a big sky-blue barn house. Twenty Greek-style buildings were next to it, though each one of them was different, from the colour to the structure. A bigger building stood next to it without any walls or a roof. The stables were to the east side. On the west side was a climbing wall—not exactly the type of climbing wall you see at your average camp. Every now and then, steaming red liquid would pour down. I had a pretty food idea what it was, but I decided I'd rather not know. Next to all the buildings was a huge forest that reminded me of the Forbidden Forest—just where to go when you're feeling rebellious. Er, no, I didn't ever do that before. Forget I said that. Kids were running around the camp.

"Wow," I said. "This is pretty incredible."

"Yeah," Percy agreed as the pegasi landed next to the stables. "I've been here every summer since I was twelve."

I nodded and jumped off Pearl. Percy did the same. "And how old are you now?"

"Turning seventeen in two months," he replied.

"So you're almost of age," I said.

He gave me a confused look, "What?"

Holy Voldy, I'd forgotten that muggles come of age at eighteen. Damn. "Uh... I meant, a little bit over a year till you're an adult."

Percy was still looking at me weird, so I decided to steer the conversation out of the dangerous waters. "Thanks for taking me wherever this place is, Pearl." She whinnied.

"She says she likes you and no problem," said Percy, smiling, apparently forgetting our recent conversation.

"You can talk to horses?" I raised my eyebrows. I didn't think that was a wizard trait.

Percy nodded. "Yeah. I'll tell you later why. Let's get to Chiron first."

"Fine. What _is_ this place?" I said, taking in my surroundings as Blackjack and Pearl went into the stables.

"Camp Half-Blood," he said as we walked towards the barn house. "It's the only safe place for people like us."

"People like us?" I repeated. "You mean mentally disturbed kids?"

The edge of Percy's lips twisted upwards, as if he was remembering an old joke. "I guess you could say that," he said finally. "We're not normal. Chiron'll explain. See you around, Penny." And with that he walked away.

"Yeah," I muttered. "Good day to you, too." I eyed the barn house warily and walked in.

* * *

"No, Mr. D," said an exasperated man in a wheelchair as I entered the rec room. They seemed to be playing cards. "You _cannot_ do that!"

A pudgy man in a loud leopard print shirt eyed him. "I will do whatever I want when I play pinochles, Chiron."

Mr. Wheelchair sighed. "Fine. Your turn, Number Three."

That's when I realized Mr. D and Chiron weren't the only ones playing. Cards were floating in midair, as if the people were wearing Invisibility Cloaks.

I watched for a moment and cleared my throat loudly. Mr. D didn't give me a second glance. Chiron looked at me and smiled.

"Ah, I see Percy has been successful in retrieving our new friend," he said, turning his wheelchair to me.

"Um... yeah," I said. He made me sound like I was a valuable package he had ordered through Owl Catalogues that he had particularly wanted. "Yeah, he did."

"Yes... let us go to my office." Chiron steered his wheelchair towards the door. "Excuse me, Mr. D."

Mr. D sighed and glared at me. "You owe me for this, you insolent brat. It's not the same without the old horse." He dropped his cards and the invisible cards also dropped themselves.

"I'm sorry, did you say—" I began, but Chiron grabbed me and pulled me out the door.

"—old horse?" I finished as Chiron and I stepped outside the rec room (well, I did, anyway. Chiron was still on his wheelchair.

He ignored me until we got into an office. His, I assumed. "I take it you are Penelope Prewett?"

I scowled. "I hate my full name," I told him when he raised an eyebrow. "It's Penny, but yes, that's me."

"Ah," said Chiron. "All right, then."

"Yeah," I said awkwardly, searching for something to say. "Er... so... you know McGonagall?"

Chiron smiled. "Yes, Penny," he said. "Minerva and I have known each other for years. Ambassadors from both worlds, you would say. Though I haven't seen her in some time," he added, frowning. "How is she?"

"Oh, she's doing fine, pretty good," I said. _As good as a headmistress can be with people like me causing trouble_, I added mentally, though my mind was already working on the "ambassadors from both worlds" part. Somehow, the name "Chiron" sounded awfully familiar. I must've read kt somewhere: I'd read so many books, it was hard to keep track of them all. "Are you named after somebody?" I asked Chiron.

He looked confused. "No... why would you think that?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. It's just that I think I might have heard your name somewhere before."

"Yes," he said slowly, "I'm sure you would have. Once I explain our story, I'm sure you'll understand why."

I nodded, motioning him to go on.

"I'm sure you're all too familiar with Ancient Greek mythology." I nodded. "Zeus, Hades, et cetera. The gods have been alive since millennia ago, but in Ancient Greece. The whole 'Western civilization' is not only a concept, but a burning force, a collective consciousness that burned bright for several thousand years. The gods are part of it. They are tied tightly to the fire so that they couldn't possibly fade unless the West dies. Then the fire moved. To Rome, to Spain, France, Germany, England. Then the fire moved here, to America. So the gods came with it. The gods are in America."

I just stared at him. "You're kidding, right? You have to be kidding. It's a bad joke, but it's a joke, right?"

Chiron merely chuckled. "I assure you, this is no joke. Come now, Penny, you are a witch. Surely this cannot be too extraordinary to you?"

I snorted. "Doesn't mean I can take any more than that. Aren't the Greek gods a _myth_? As in they don't really _exist_?"

"Not quite," said Chiron. "The Greek wouldn't make up gods when there a real ones waiting to be worshipped, would they?"

I had to admit, that made sense. "And...? This place is?"

"You know the stories Heracles, Achilles, Theseus. They aren't the only ones, just the more famous ones in the ancient times. Gods... they frequently travel to the mortal world, and they fall in love with mortals. Their offspring are demigods," he said. "Or half-bloods. Camp Half-Blood is the only safe place for them, because they attract monsters. Unfortunately, those exist along with the gods and demigods."

"So," I said, letting the truth sink in, "the Greek gods exist. They're still here, and they randomly go around, falling in love with mortals, have kids through ways I don't want to think about, who are demigods, who attract monsters, who still exist with demigods and Greek gods."

"Yes, that's about right." Chiron sounded amused.

"And..." I asked the question nagging me the most, "_I'm_ a demigod?"

"Yes."

"Who's my godly parent?"

"Undetermined."

"Who would you say it is?" I just had to ask. I'm curious, okay?

"Hard to tell," said Chiron, scrutinizing me. "I'd say a daughter of Hermes because of your sardonic sense of humour and your ability of getting into trouble frequently in which Minerva has informed me of (but that won't work because you know your father) , or daughter of Athena for your intelligence, or daughter of Hecate because of your specialty in magic in which Minerva had also informed me of, even for a witch."

Huh. The only thing I got out of that was that McGonagall tells Chiron a lot about me.

"Which reminds me... your name _does_ sound familiar... Oh my Merlin, you're the _actual_ Chiron?" I figured out. "But... you're supposed to be half-horse, not crippled."

"I beg your pardon?" Chiron now sounded mildly irritated. "I can change my lower part into a wheelchair when needed, and I prefer to stay in wheelchair form in the Big House."

So that's what they called the barn house. Nice name. Wonder how long it took for them to come up a name like that? "So you're actually a centaur?" I asked. "I've met some of them in the Forbidden Forest (don't ask why I'm there), and they don't seem very nice, only interested in the stars."

Chiron nodded. "My brethren are different from me. They are even different from each other. The British like Astronomy. The Americans—they call themselves Party Ponies, and they're—well, a bit childish." I later decided that was the understatement of the millennium when I met the Party Ponies. But that's later. I didn't say anything, 'kay?

I decided to change the subject. If the Party Ponies were "childish", I'd hate to think what the centaurs from some other random country was like. "From what little Percy told me, I get the feeling that you don't always send letters?"

"I don't," Chiron said grimly, "but you are a different case altogether, Penny; you can be dangerous."

_"Dangerous?" _I was incredulous. "Maybe I get in a little trouble at Hogwarts, a detention or two, but _dangerous_? I don't think so, Chiron."

Chiron shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid not, Penny. You belong in two very dangerous worlds. Well, the Wizarding World isn't dangerous when it's not at war, but you know what I mean. As I said before, your magic enhances your demigod scent. This makes it easier for monsters to find you.

"But that's not the only thing your magic does. It also makes you much, much more powerful than the average demigod—perhaps even Big Three children."

"Hold up." This was getting confusing. _"'Big Three'?"_

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades," explained Chiron. "During the World War II, there was a prophecy made—indicating that a child of the Big Three would either save or overthrow Olympus. The gods were afraid, of course, so the three gods made a pact—to never have children with mortals again."

He sighed. "Of course, they all broke the pact. Zeus had Thalia Grace, Hades still kept his children Nico and Bianca di Angelo alive, and Poseidon had Percy Jackson, whom I believe you already met. The prophecy was fulfilled last summer when Kronos, king of Titans, tried to overthrow Olympus and rule once again with the Titans. Percy made sure he stopped Kronos once he learned he was the true child of the prophecy.

"But back to the topic. You have exceptionally powerful... powers. I cannot tell you what it will be like specifically, for it will differ depending on your godly parent."

"How do you know?" I asked. It was as if he'd seen someone like me...

"I taught one," he said softly. "It's been a few centuries, but I taught one. Antioch Peverell, Son of Ares."

* * *

**RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY:**

**Are there any alien gods, like Thor and Loki and all that on Asgard (got that from ****_Thor _****nothing is mine)? What would happen if the ****_gods_**** fight each other? Oh, I'd grab some popcorn and watch and just be like, "Mmm, drama!"**

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun dun! Antioch Peverell! That ring a bell? (No, no, ****_not_**** the dinner bell, Ron. Do you ****_ever_**** stop eating?) If it doesn't sound familiar, please read ****_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_**** again.**

**~Definition of Random**


	4. The Parent I Probably Only Met Once

**Disclaimer: As much as I want to, I do ****_not_**** own Harry Potter, or Percy Jackson, or The Hunger Games, or The Avengers, or an iPhone 5 (or an iPhone at all, or a phone at all, unfortunately), or a computer, or super epic ninja skills...**

* * *

Chapter 4: The Parent I Probably Only Met Once

"I ought to get my ears checked," I said after a moment of stunned silence. "I thought I heard you said you taught Antioch Pe—"

"I did," said Chiron curtly. "Antioch Peverell, character in _The Three Brothers_, first master of the Elder Wand, and all that. I taught him."

I goggled at him. "But... he wasn't a demigod?" It sounded like a question, even to me.

"Yes, he was. Son of Ares. No, his brothers weren't," he added, seeing the look on my face. "His mother, a witch, met Ares. They had Antioch. Ares left her because gods were forbidden to stay with mortals too long. Antioch's mother met Edwin Peverell. They had Cadmus and Ignotus Peverell. Antioch's true parentage was kept from Edwin, Cadmus, and Ignotus. They met Death on their adventures, and became the masters of—the Deathly Hallows, I presume?" I nodded. Harry Potter's encounters with them was known all over the Wizarding World. Chiron continued, "You all believe Antioch's throat was slit for boasting about his invincible wand. Well, that wasn't wrong. It's close. In truth, the gods sent an army of monsters to murder him." Chiron sighed. "Antioch had gone too far. He believed he could overpower the gods with the elder wand and his demigod powers. It wasn't enough."

"The gods... _killed_ him?" I said, stunned. "In cold blood? Even Ares? He could _kill his own son_?"

Chiron had a small smile on his face. "Ares _is_ the god of war," he said sadly. "He wouldn't care much. But you should know, not all gods voted for him to die. But majority did." He shook his head sadly. "I'd rather not remember the details," he said.

I let out a breath. "Too much information," I admitted. "You tell me anything more, my head is going to explode.

Chiron smiled wryly. "Ah, but I'm afraid you still have the orientation video ti see, my dear."

The only sound in Chiron's office was me groaning.

* * *

The orientation video wasn't actually that bad. Well, it _was_, since it was filmed by kids, but overall it was just another orientation video. After it finished, I went back to Chiron's office and took my trunk and Hilarem's cage.

Percy came back as my guide around the camp. He had stared at the empty cage, but then shook his head, muttering something about how he could never get used to the weird pets people have. He took me to Cabin Eleven, Hermes's cabin, and put my stuff there. "You're undetermined," he'd told me, "so you stay in Hermes. He's the god of travellers, so he doesn't mind taking in other people like you."

Percy showed me around the camp. My first instincts were right. This place is incredible. I hadn't felt like this since I first saw Hogwarts. Percy was showing me where the armoury when a girl with dirty blond hair and stormy grey eyes strolled over. Percy brightened considerably when he saw her.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain," she called cheerily. I snorted (it hurt me that I could never come up with a nickname as brilliant as that one) while Percy scowled. I could tell he didn't like it, but he grinned stupidly again very quickly.

"Hi, Annabeth." He kissed her on the lips. I turned away; I wasn't completely comfortable with PDA. When they disconnected from the lips the girl turned to me.

"So you're Penelope Prew—?" she began to ask.

"Penny," I said through gritted teeth. For some reason, Percy found that immensely funny.

"Nothing," he said when I gave him the look that people usually gave me (Slithering Slytherin, it felt good not to be on the _receiving_ end of the looks for once). "It's just that I really hate it when people call me my real name, too. What kind of name is _Perseus_?"

"A Greek name," I said matter-of-factly. "And, yes, I am Penny Prewett," I said, turning to Annabeth. "You may now applaud." I pretended to bow.

Annabeth didn't smile; she reminded me of McGonagall. But I swear she was fighting a grin. "And I'm Annabeth Chase."

"Daughter of?" I stuck out my hand.

"Athena," she said, shaking my hand and straightening.. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Talk about parent pride. "Are you really magical?" Straight to the point. Hmm, I like that.

"Well, that depends on your definition of 'magical'..." I pretended to think. "I suppose being the child of all-powerful Greek gods count." Percy snorted.

Annabeth sent a glare at me that made me want to crawl in the Oracle's cave and hide forever. "You know what I meant."

I sighed. "Fine. Witch. Magic. Me."

"Are they—I mean you—like those tales? Broomsticks? Cauldrons? Wands? Slimy green facials?" Suddenly she wasn't mad anymore.

"Yes, yes, yes, and _no way in hell_," I said, fuming. "Honestly, muggle tales about witches are completely _absurd_."

"Wow." Percy looked stunned too, then shook his head, muttering, "First gods. Then Kronos. Now this. Is this _ever_ going to stop?"

"No," Annabeth and I chorused. Then Annabeth bombarded me with questions again.

"You can do magic? How?"

"How exactly does a broomstick stay in the air?"

"What are potions used for?"

"Look, Annabeth," I snapped. "I'm breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

Percy blinked. "They built a _statue_ for secrecy?"

"_Statute_, Seaweed Brain." I was seriously starting to like the name. "It's a Wizarding law. As a member of the Wizarding World, I'm not supposed to be telling any of you about magic."

"Right," said Annabeth, looking embarrassed. "Sorry. I can't help. I really hate not knowing things, you know?"

"Oh, I know. Annabeth, can you show me around with Percy?" Then I looked at Percy. "Sorry, I should have asked you first, but—"

"Nah, it's fine." He smiled at Annabeth, and I got the feeling he would have invited her anyway. Couples these days, pfft!

It turns out, once Annabeth warms up to you, she's great fun, not like Minnie McGonagall at all. I've never really hung out around the older kids at Hogwarts, only going up to fourth years. And Dad hadn't exactly allowed me to hang around teenagers when I was going to muggle school. But as far as I could tell, Annabeth and Percy were pretty cool.

"Oh my gods," said Annabeth. "You _have_ to check out our library! It's got so many books, even _I_ haven't gotten to read them all yet!"

Okay, I take what I said back. Annabeth was a complete nerd. Not that I care or anything.

"Really?" I said. "I snuck into my dad's library when I was seven and read half the books there."

Percy rolled his eyes. "I'm stuck with two nerds." Annabeth smacked him. Like, _hard_.

"Ow!" he whined, rubbing his arm where Annabeth hit him.

"You deserved it," I told him. It felt weird talking to a sixteen-year-old like that. He scowled at me, but he didn't dare do anything to Annabeth. I shared a smirk with her.

"Never mess with your girlfriend, Percy." He gave me the finger for that. "Don't you know that?"

"Oh, I know it, all right," he sighed. "But knowing doesn't equal actually _doing_."

Annabeth smacked him again, this time on the other arm.

"That balances it," I snickered.

This time, both of them gave me dirty looks.

* * *

You know, I'm getting mixed up on all the expressions used by people. Back when I was in muggle school, it was "oh my God" or "what in the world?". Back home with Dad and at Hogwarts, it was "oh my Merlin" or "what in Merlin's shortest pair of boxers?". Here at Camp Half-Blood, it was "oh my gods" or "what in Hades?". You see what I mean? Someday I'll probably end up saying, "oh my God in Hades wearing Merlin's shortest pair of boxers".

(No, don't give me The Look. I've seen it too many times to know that you are giving me that wretched look. I don't care if I can't even see your face. I just know, because I'm just that awesome, so get used to it.)

I know, right? All these expressions are making me sick.

Anyway, that's what I was thinking about when I walked towards the Hermes cabin. The ADHD part of my brain, anyway.

I lined up last as the dinner bell rang. Connor and Travis Stoll, who were co-counsellors, "counted the people". They were just checking if people had anything worth taking. I glared at them as they came close to me.

"Don't even think about it," I told them in a tone that I usually talked to Mrs. Norris at Hogwarts when she caught me in the corridors after curfew. Ever wonder why Filch never gave me detention for sneaking out at night? Well, now you know: Mrs. Norris is afraid of me.

And judging by the looks on their faces, so did Connor and Travis. Funny. They're sixteen and fourteen years old, and they're scared of a short, skinny eleven-year-old like me. They recoiled and slumped back and led us to the Hermes table. I went, smirking the whole way.

Joy Summers, a thirteen-year-old daughter of Hermes winked at me and said, "That's the first time Connor and Travis are actually _scared_ of someone. They weren't even nervous when we faced Kronos." She snorted. "Well, good going, Prewett. They need someone to stop them from killing anybody else in a practical joke, though a person does need a laugh once in a while." I got the feeling she was serious about killing.

As we settled down at the table, Mr. D (whom I had learned was the god of wine, Dionysus, Camp Director, and Mr. Annoy-Dumbledore's-Boxers-Out-Of-Percy), stood up at the main table, sighing.

"Oh, shut up, you insolent brats," he said in a bored and slightly irate voice. The kids (even those Hermes kids sitting next to me having a food fight whom I desperately tried to ignore) quieted down at once. "I suppose I should make announcements. Now, the chariot race will be next week. There will be _no_ Capture the Flag today, due to reasons I did not listen to." There were whines and groans all around the pavilion, accompanied by some "boos" from the Ares cabin. Dionysus ignored all of that and drawled on dryly, "Congratulations to Pablo Jacques for coming back from his most recent que—"

Chiron said something quietly to him.

Dionysus sighed. "I don't suppose you think I care if the boy's name is Peter Johnson." I looked at Percy—it was obvious they were talking about him—and saw that he was shaking his head, as if used to this. Dionysus continued, "And I suppose I should welcome Peggy Prowl?"

I snorted and called out, "I think you forgot about Penny Prewett?"

The demigods heard me and stifled their laughter. Some winked at me. The satyrs shook their heads like their heads were pulled by a string. Unfortunately, Mr. D didn't seem to hear me and sat down, making a strawberry grow and shrink, looking bored. Chiron stood.

"Yes, welcome, Penny!" he continued. "She is new to Camp Half-Blood, and has yet to be determ—" He stopped suddenly and stared at me, or rather, the space above my head. All the campers turned to look, too. Some of them gasped. I was beginning to wonder if some magic bird pooped magic poop that I can't feel on me. Godric's Sword, why is everyone looking at me?

I looked up just in time to see a grey holograph of an owl fading. I didn't need to be a genius (which I already was) to know what that meant, or rather, _who_ that meant.

"Well," Chiron said, breaking the silence, "I must change that last statement. Penny has been determined." He bowed, and the campers followed. "Hail, Penelope Prewett"—I scowled at the use of my full name—"Daughter of the Patroness of Athens, Sacred Protector of Owls, Creator of Olives." (I didn't know if the last one was a joke or not, but it kind of made sense. I've always like owls, which is why I bought Hilarem, and I make my dad buy olives all the time. Not to mention my genius brains.) "Hail, Daughter of Athena."

* * *

**RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: People seem to like making main male protagonists have black hair and green eyes. At least J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan did, anyway. I don't know about others.**

* * *

**A/N: I'm not particularly proud of this chapter. Short, too, I know. At least I finally got Penny's parentage problem sorted out. I actually considered making her a daughter of Hecate or Aphrodite... but again, only ****_considered_****. I personally like Athena more. According to online quizzes, I'm also a daughter of Athena! I'm awesome!**


	5. I Meet New FriendsHalf-Siblings

**DISCLAIMER: Me, a _ year old girl (did you seriously think I was going to tell you my age?) does not own two of the awesomest, bestest (who gives a crap about grammar when writing disclaimers?!) fantasy stories ever written. To me, they're the bestest, anyway. I don't care about your opinion. Wait—that came out wrong. I meant—argh! Just onto the story, then.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: I Meet New Friends/Half-Siblings**

The rest of the day was relatively normal. Annabeth walked up to me and practically dragged me away to her table, since I was officially her half-sister now. Also the half-sister of Malcolm Brown, Allison Carter, Ryan Fernandez, Steve Nielson, Sophie Raguel, Charles (aka Charlie) and Charlotte de Mullier (who were twins), Max Stefani, Juliette McRogers, Nicole Ling, and Jacob Stevenson.

Malcolm (age 15) laughed when Annabeth dragged me over. "Welcome to the cabin of pure hell," he told me. "Annabeth may be nice to you now, but when you drop a single candy wrapper on the floor"—he shuddered dramatically—"well, she has a Celestial bronze dagger."

Annabeth didn't need a Celestial bronze dagger to make Malcolm shut up.

Most of the kids in the cabin had blond hair of any shade and stormy grey eyes, with the exception of Nicole, who looked like a typical Asian girl with not-so typical frizzy hair, like an afro. And me, of course, with my gold-streaked-with-red hair and icy blue eyes. Most people would think I was a snotty Malfoy at Hogwarts if not for my Gryffindor robes my first few weeks (I hadn't dyed my hair then), so I consulted a book in the school library for a spell to streak my hair with scarlet red. Scarlet and gold. Gryffindor pride. My dad didn't yell _too_ much when I went home for Christmas.

Charlie, Max, and Jacob (age 12, 11, and 11 and a half) were the 'Trickster Trio', as everybody called them, always pranking everybody, with Malcolm joining them occasionally, with Jacob as the leader. You see, even though the Hermes kids' pranking skills rivalled those of the Trickster Trio's easily, nobody called anybody there 'Trickster Trio', because they're _Hermes's_ kids, people _expected_ them to be like that. They grinned at me devilishly when they saw me. I wonder if they'll let me join in their pranks.

Ryan and Steve (age 10 and 8) were the quiet ones. They looked up at me from their thick books (which looked very interesting, by the way) to smile shyly at me and said nothing, but I knew that once you get to know them, they can get as crazy as the Trickster Trio. I am quite good at reading people.

Allison, Sophie, Charlotte, Juliette, and Nicole (age 11, 12, 12, 10, 14, and 11) were close friends despite their age differences and immediately accepted me as a new member of their gang.

Allison was super nice and wasn't much of a bookworm (for a daughter of Athena), the kind that got good grades without really trying (like me). Sophie (according to others) went into hysterics whenever there was an exam, but she was very amiable. Charlotte was pretty much the exact opposite of her twin, and they were nothing alike except the fact that they shared the same surname and looked alike. Charlotte was shy and quiet whereas her twin was loud and attention-seeking. Charlotte wore blue glasses and always had a book with her. Juliette, the youngest girl in our cabin, was pretty outgoing and always liked to ask questions. Nicole seemed shy as well, but she smiled warmly at me and said, "Complete strangers think I am quiet and shy. My friends know that I like to laugh and joke. Only my BFFs know that I am actually completely nuts."

I laughed. "Even complete strangers know _I_ am completely nuts."

Everybody who heard me chuckled (even Annabeth was holding back a smile as she was back to her McGonagall-like behaviour; I suppose she has to set a 'good' example as counsellor) as I sat down to eat. The food was as good as the house elves' back at Hogwarts, though one can only have so much fish and chips or kidney pie. You can never beat good ol' sandwiches. That's all you need to keep me happy. And maybe some chocolate pudding.

When dinner finished, we all went to the campfire. The Apollo cabin was leading the sing-along, but I never was one for music (unfortunately, my voice sounds like a cat being beat up), so I didn't sing.

I sat next to Allison and Nicole. Allison was very busily arguing with Sophie about ways to do algebra, and Nicole was staring off to space, so I had no choice but to listen to the campers sing. Majority of the people were off-key, minus the Apollo campers, of course. They sang stupid songs like 'This Land is Minos' Land', blah, blah, blah. I found myself staring at the campfire, which was pink, five feet tall and contentedly warm at the moment. Yeah, it changes colour, height and warmth, depending on the campers' moods. Not that it surprised me. Not after seeing the ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Now, _there_ was a surprise.

At half past nine, Chiron ushered us back to our respective cabins, but I still had to go to the Hermes cabin to pick up my stuff. Nicole offered to go with me, and I gladly accepted.

Once we reached it, Nicole wrinkled her nose. "It's always been awfully filthy in there," she said.

"OCD much?" I teased. Nicole rolled her eyes.

"Oh, _please_. Well, maybe, but Hermes kids are complete _slobs_," she said, emphasizing the word, "even if they usually are pretty nice people. They usually get a two out of five or lower whenever it's cabin inspection. And it doesn't help that they take in every single undetermined kid who don't give a piece of stale ambrosia **(A/N: Does ambrosia even go stale? Oh, whatever)** how the cabin looks. Er, no offence," she said, seeing that, until very recently, I was still undetermined.

"None taken," I said, grinning. Somehow I found her rant funny. "Well, since you don't want to go into it, I'll do it myself." Nicole nodded.

I hadn't really been into the Hermes cabin—Joy Summers had offered to take my stuff in for me—and I immediately saw what Nicole meant. Candy wrappers, plans for pranks, random stuff, and—weapons?—were everywhere. And it _smelled_, too. The campers didn't look twice at me, so I went over to the only empty bed in the corner, snatched my trunk and Hilarem's cage, and practically ran outside. Nicole was still waiting for me with a smug look.

"What did I tell you?" she said, smirking.

I scowled. "Wipe that look off your face," I told her, "before I hex—_slap_ it off. I am never going back in there if I can help it."

Nicole just continued looking as smug as a Kneazle who found a rat.

* * *

That night, I lay awake in the _much_ cleaner Athena cabin, wondering how complicated anyone's life could get in twenty-four hours.

Apparently, pretty darn annoying.

I mean, being a witch was pretty amazing, and believe me, after spending the first ten years in a muggle community, I knew. It's a lot more easy to do stuff, even though I couldn't do magic outside of Hogwarts.

And being a demigod—well, I don't know. From what I knew about him, he hated being one. And the stories—I don't think there are more than a few demigods who didn't die tragically in the myths. But I guess it'll be fine. Maybe.

_Pour half a witch and half a demigod into a life-sized bowl._

_Mix well until mixture turns into a girl by the name of Penny Prewett._

_Bake in oven for eleven years._

_There you go! You have a messed up life. Fresh out of the oven. More messed up if you eat it straight away._

Worst recipe ever.

And yet the recipe for my life.

My life is messed up. And it was only the beginning of the messed-upness.

Yay.

* * *

**RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE DAY: Did you ever notice characters hate being called their real name? Percy hates being called Perseus, Max Ride (from ****_Maximum Ride_****) hates being called Maximum, Voldemort—cue the gasp of horror—****_really_**** hates being called Tom Riddle. And, of course, you don't want a witch-slash-demigod after you for calling her "Penelope."**

* * *

**A/N: I AM SO SORRY. I AM SERIOUSLY THINKING OF REWRITING THIS CHAPTER NOW. IT'S BAD. AND I THINK I CAN'T TURN OFF CAPS LOCK. LOL I'm just messing with you. The Caps Lock part, I mean. Not the rewriting chapter part. I seriously might rewrite it. And it's so short. I'm sorry, but I just can't think of anything. I promise you the next chapter will be (probably, maybe, likely, I-hope-so-ly) be better. TOOTLES!**


	6. Sad Author's Note

**SAD AUTHOR'S NOTE**

Hi all.

I'm going to stop posting for a while, because of... family issues.

Yes, I know it sounds cryptic and mysterious and cliché.

But it's pretty serious.

I'm sorry.

Thank you all for supporting me. I really appreciate it.

**~A Very Sad Definition of Random**


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